Choices
by Wacky MindTheDuck
Summary: Harry, Ron, Hermione, Fleur and Viktor are on the quest to find the Horcruxes all over Europe. A capture and a betrayal await them, and they have to defeat all odds to achieve final peace in the wizarding world. First fic.
1. Happy Birthday, Harry

_**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter and all related names. I do, however, own ten ceramic ducks in sports poses, and a copy of Harry Potter 4. My sister owns the rest of the books. I only own that book because she lost hers, and I had to buy one to complete the collection before the movie came out.**_

Chapter One

Happy Birthday

Number Four Privet Drive had never been as blissful in years. It was the end of July, and most normal households were enjoying their vacation in places like France, Italy and Spain. But Vernon Dursley never considered his household as normal, not at least in the past seven years. But today was different. It spawned a transition in the Dursley house. He stood still in the bedroom of his so-called nephew, trying to hide his delight. After all those years, he could live normally again. He immediately began planning. He would take Petunia and Dudley to his sister Marge's house, and then all of them would go to Germany to see the Linderhof Castle, or to France to see the Eiffel Tower. He could even coax Dudley into taking a hike in the Alps. Wherever the place, it was a time worth celebrating. He stroked his bristly mustache thoughtfully.

Harry James Potter was kneeling on the floor of the bedroom that had been his for seven years. His Uncle Vernon stood looming over him as he packed the last of his clothes. He checked his wall calendar one more time to be sure he was packing on the right day. All days of the month of July were crossed out, save for the last: his birthday. He was seventeen years old.

Around this time last year, Dumbledore had made a personal visit to the Dursleys, to pick Harry up and escort him to The Burrow. He had kindly notified his aunt and uncle that today, he would come of age and leave them. That day last year, before Harry begun his sixth year, had suddenly become quite cheery. Harry supposed today could've been merry as well, except the fact that Dumbledore was dead.

It was true, the whole wizarding world mourned the loss of one of the greatest wizards of all time, but no one was as affected as Harry. He had seen the murder firsthand. He had been Stunned, under his invisibility cloak, watching as the Death Eaters surrounded Dumbledore. His long-time rival Draco Malfoy had attempted to kill Dumbledore first, but not having the courage, Snape had come up, and finished the Headmaster off.

Harry's trunk was open on his bed. He had packed all his clothes in already, and Harry now turned to pack the few personal belongings he had. There was the album Hagrid, the school gamekeeper, Care of Magical Creatures Professor, and his good friend, had given him. It housed a few pictures of his parents. He didn't risk opening it in front of his uncle, who was still standing there, arms crossed, and waiting impatiently, for most magical things frightened his uncle. Pictures in the magic world moved, and Harry was afraid his uncle would freak and promptly send him out of the house immediately. So, he carefully laid it on top of some of his school robes. There was the Broom Servicing Kit Hermione, his close friend, had given him a few years back. He placed it right beside the album.

Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger were his closest friends in Hogwarts. Just a few days ago, they had written letters to him, asking about how he was doing. Harry held the letters in his hand, and reread them one more time before packing them.

_Harry,_

_Bill and Fleur's wedding is on August 3. Of course, you're invited. I think you already received the invitation. Anyway, where're you staying from your birthday until then? You're welcome to stay with us, and mum would be pleased. She keeps on worrying about you, and I tell her your fine and you can handle the last few weeks you have with your aunt and uncle. You _are_ fine, aren't you mate? See you soon._

_Ron_

Harry chuckled to himself. Ron was still the same. He had written to him, saying that he would be staying with them, and that he could even help with the preparations for the wedding. Next came Hermione's letter.

_Harry,_

_Advanced Happy Birthday! We'll meet in the Burrow, right? Ron says so. I'll give you your present personally there. Are you excited for Bill and Fleur? I am. Our last year in Hogwarts is coming up, and it's thrilling! It's our N.E.W.T.S. year! I'm so excited. Who do you think will be our seventh and last DA teacher? McGonagall should be able to find us a compatible one. See you there._

_Hermione_

"Hurry reading those letters," barked Uncle Vernon. "You have more things and that ruddy bird to call, too."

Harry nodded and placed the letters in his trunk. He received one gift today, as Ron's and Hermione's would be given to him personally. It was a package of some of Hagrid's famous rock cakes, and a scribbled 'Happy Birthday, exciting year ahead' from Hagrid. He had politely offered some to his uncle, but all Uncle Vernon did was too stare at them like they were poison. He packed them in as well. There was the Invisibility Cloak, which had helped his countless times. He placed his Firebolt, his gift from his late godfather, Sirius Black beside the trunk. Sirius had been killed in the Ministry of Magic two years before, and Harry sorely missed his presence. That left the trunk pretty much packed, and he glanced to the empty cage on his desk. And, as if on cue, Hedwig fluttered onto the windowsill, having finished her breakfast. She obediently entered the cage and Harry walked over and closed it.

"That's about it," Harry told his uncle.

"You forgot that locket over there," Uncle Vernon pointed a stubby finger at Harry's desk.

Harry turned and spotted Slytherin's Locket, the fake Horcrux, on his desk. He almost forgot. Dumbledore had risked his life for the locket, which turned out to be a fake. And then, for all their hard work, Dumbledore was killed in his beloved school. _Great ending for all those years trying to defeat Voldemort,_ Harry thought sarcastically. At last, he was packed, and it was still ten in the morning.

"I suppose you'll walk to wherever you're going," Uncle Vernon said.

"I thought of flying, actually," Harry responded, gesturing to his Firebolt.

"What if you're seen?" Uncle Vernon lowered his voice. "You will not be seen taking that horrible form of transportation _your lot_ uses in front of _my_ house."

"Fine," Harry said. "I'll take it somewhere else. Like, in the open field."

"I thought you weren't allowed," Uncle Vernon grinned mischievously. "So I guess you have to wa—"

"I've come of age," Harry cut in. "I can do whatever I want. I can hex you right here. No Underage Wizardry laws can stop me now." Harry patted his jacket pocket. His wand was there.

Uncle Vernon looked slightly abashed. His eyes darted to the pocket, as if afraid the wand would magically jump out and hex him by itself.

"You—you couldn't," he protested, terrified. "We took you in. We clothed you. We let you go to that— _school_."

Harry was enjoying this. What a way to say goodbye to his uncle.

"Fine," Harry confided. "I won't, if you're nice to me. But I think I'll jinx Dudley on the way out."

It was at this point Harry was sure Uncle Vernon turned pale. But, a moment later, the doorbell rang. He could here his Aunt Petunia walking in the hall to open the door. Harry heard the _click_ that signified that door had opened. There were a few moments of silence.

"V-Vernon," Aunt Petunia called.

For a fleeting moment, Harry and his uncle locked eyes, with the same element of surprise in them. Harry wondered if his uncle was thinking the same thing. Uncle Vernon turned toward the door. Harry tried to push past his uncle towards the door, but his uncle was too large. When they got to the landing, Harry's assumption was correct.

Ron Weasley looked the same as ever. As usual, he had grown quite a few more inches during the summer, but his flaming red hair, and his freckles, and the clueless grin he always had, were the same.

"I guess that solves the transportation problem," Harry whispered to his uncle.

Ron glanced up to the landing of the stairs, and grinned. Aunt Petunia looked mortified.

"Hey Harry," he called. "We came to pick you up. Happy Birthday."

Harry lugged his suitcase down the steps. He took one last look at the hallway, and the cupboard under the stairs, where he spent most of his years before Hogwarts. He stepped into the sunshine, and handed Ron his suitcase. To his surprise, his relatives had come out to send him off. Dudley was now as tall as his dad, and they looked much alike, except that Dudley was obviously younger.

"Goodbye then," Harry told his relatives. He waved at them with the hand that held Hedwig's cage. The remained silent as they stood on their doorstep.

Harry turned to the car the Weasleys had brought, and put his broom in the trunk. Hedwig would stay with him. In the front was Mr. Weasley, waving at the Dursleys, who did not wave back. Fred and George were also in the car, and Harry was sure he saw Dudley whimper as he spotted the twins. As Harry was about to get into the back of the car with George and Ron, his aunt stepped forward.

"Wait," she said.

Harry was surprised. He stepped out. She was holding something bundled in an old kitchen towel.

"T-take care of yourself," she nonchalantly told him. "Here's something for your birthday."

Harry was still in shock as he unwrapped the gift. It was a small diary.

"It was your mother's," Aunt Petunia explained. "It's yours now."

Harry nodded, took one last look at the Dursleys, and closed the door. He was silent until they had finally left Privet Drive.

"How're you doing, Harry?" greeted Mr. Weasley from the front.

"Great, Mr. Weasley," Harry replied. Hedwig's cage was on his lap, and she hooted happily. Harry was sure they felt the same way. The confinement of the Dursleys was gone. And now, they were free. Harry held the diary in his hands. How did his aunt get hold of his mum's diary? And it looked like it was fished from the attic. Why was it given to him only now?

"Is that your mom's diary?" Ron asked.

"Yes," Harry replied. "I was never told she had a diary. And she didn't seem like one who kept one."

"Ron," said Fred from the front, imitating Mrs. Weasley's voice. "You know better than to intrude on things like that."

"You shut up," Ron responded, but he dropped the subject anyway. "Hey, Harry. Happy Birthday."

Ron reached into his pocket and took out a crudely wrapped gift. Harry thanked him and unwrapped it. It was a small penknife, shaped like a small box, about the size of a thumb.

"Not just any penknife at that," said Ron. "I've heard about the Muggle penknives. This one has about just anything to help you in a situation."

"How'd you get one of those, Ron?" George asked.

"Oh, I got it on bargain," Ron replied. "With part of my savings."

"Thanks a bunch Ron," Harry grinned. "I'll put it to good use."

"Try it out now," Ron suggested. He was blushing.

"Anything, right?" Harry confirmed. "What about a dagger?"

Ron pointed to what looked like a division.

"You flip that open and you tell it what you want," Ron said.

"Okay. Dagger," Harry said as he flipped it open. Sure enough, there was a small dagger.

"Try something harder," suggested George.

"Fork," Harry said. It was a fork when he reopened it.

"That's neat," Fred was looking back.

"Lighter," Harry tried.

"Oh come on," Ron said. "Not everything."

But sure enough, when the penknife was opened, there was a small tongue of flame.

"We're here," Mr. Weasley announced.

Harry looked out the window, and the familiar structure of the Burrow was eminent. They drove all the way to the garage and got out.

"Hasn't changed much," Ron said humbly.

"It's just fine," Harry smiled.

"You can go in right ahead, Harry," Fred told him as he reached for the trunk. "George and I will take care of it."

"Right this way, Harry," gestured Mr. Weasley to the door.

Harry walked to the door, and opened it first.

"Surprise!" yelled about a dozen voices. Small fireworks exploded through the room.

Harry couldn't believe his eyes. The dining room of The Burrow was decorated with streamers and a feast was set. Near the stairs, a poster that read, "Happy Birthday Harry!" was pinned. Mrs. Weasley, looking as affectionately toward him as usual, was holding a birthday cake. Around the room where Hermione, holding a large gift; Ginny, smiling at him; Charlie, wearing a hat and the one who seemed to have sent the mini fireworks and Bill, with his arm around Fleur. Also present were Luna Lovegood and Remus Lupin, his former Defense against the Dark Arts teacher, Nymphadora Tonks, and Fleur's sister, Gabrielle, whom Harry had saved in the Triwizard Tournament in his fourth year.

"Thanks," Harry said breathlessly. He was overwhelmed. Everyone started pressing toward him, each trying to give his or her gift to Harry first.

"Now everyone," Mr. Weasley raised his voice over the shouts in the room. "Harry has just arrived. Let him catch his breath."

Harry didn't mind. It was the best birthday he had ever had. Mrs. Weasley held the cake, covered in white icing, up to him,

"Happy Birthday, dear," she smiled as he blew the candle.

"Here you go, Harry," smiled Hermione. Harry unwrapped her gift. It was the latest edition Firebolt Servicing Kit, complete with specialized polish, brushes, and a complete user's guide.

"Wow Hermione," Harry was awed. "Thanks."

"Open mine next, Harry," Ginny said.

Harry opened Ginny's gift, which was in bright lavender wrapping paper. It was a survival book in the wilderness of Europe.

"Just in case," Ginny said. But she wasn't smiling. Harry got what she meant. Last year, he ended his brief relationship with her because he thought Voldemort would use her against him. She now probably knew he was set to recover the missing Horcruxes, and she wanted him ready.

The other gifts were just as great. There was a _Ye Ole Cornucopiae of Charms: Beste for Repelling the Viciouse Snurtbrackse _Book from Luna, a pair of dragonhide gloves from Charlie, a handy device for protecting your treasures from Lupin and Tonks, who were now engaged and a formal hat from Mrs. Weasley. Bill and Fleur gave him cologne from France, and Gabrielle gave him a wand polishing kit. Mr. Weasley gave him a cloak to match the hat his wife had given him while Fred and George gave him a box full of merchandise from their shop.

"Our best for one of our best customers," Fred said proudly.

"Thanks so much everyone," Harry said.

After the hearty meal prepared by Mrs. Weasley, everyone had settled in the living room for some dessert.

"I hope you read the book, Harry," Luna came over in her signature dreary voice. "The charms are, should I say, interesting."

"I will, Luna," Harry replied.

"Happy Birthday again, Harry," Lupin came forward. "Tonks and I have to depart early. Something in the Ministry."

"Bye then," Harry said. "Thanks for the gift."

"See ya now," Tonks waved as they opened the door. "Take care of yourself. We'll see you at the wedding."

"How was your summer, Harry?" Hermione asked as the three of them sat on the carpet in the Weasley living room, holding their Butterbeer bottles.

"Okay, I guess," Harry responded. "But we still have the other half of summer, don't we?"

"Before your surprise party, all the talk in the house was about Bill and Fleur's wedding," Ron said.

"Aren't you excited, Ron?" Hermione asked.

"Yes I am, but that's all we talk about," Ron repeated.

"Long time no see, 'Arry," Fleur came over to greet him. Her hair was tied up in a bun, and it gave her some sort of regal look.

"Actually, it was just a month or so," Harry told her.

"Veely? It 'as seemed so long," Fleur tittered. "You vill be one of ze groomsmen in ze vedding, _oui?_"

"Really?" Harry asked. "I'd be honored to."

"_Trés magnefique_," Fleur said happily. She walked back toward Bill and sat on his lap. They shared a good, long kiss.

"What do you have there in your hand, Harry?" Hermione pointed to the diary Harry had kept with him since they arrived.

"It was my mother's," Harry explained. He hadn't opened it yet, for fear of something he couldn't identify.

"You better keep it my room, then Harry," Ron said. "You're sleeping with me again."

"You're right," Harry sighed. He excused himself and ascended the stairs to Ron's room. He placed on top of his trunk, closed the door, and bumped into Ginny.

"Hey, Ginny," Harry greeted.

"Hey, Harry," she blushed. She fixed her hair behind her ear. "Are you going to find them?"

"The Horcruxes?" Harry said. "Yes, but maybe after the school year. It is N.E.W.T.S. year after all."

"Take care of yourself," Ginny said.

"I will," he replied softly.

-----------------

_**A/N: This is my very first fanfic, so PLEASE send me some reviews, and I wouldn't mind constructive criticism. My sister changed Fleur's dialogue a bit, and she was the one who put in the French, so don't go thinking I know French.**_


	2. Sightings In Bulgaria

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter but I do own this Original Character… or OC… she'll make her appearance here. Yes, it's a girl…

CHAPTER TWO

Sightings

Despite its sheer size, it was slowly becoming hard for Bulgarian wizards and witches to practice magic in the Bulgarian evergreen forests. There was always a patrolling helicopter overhead, wary of illegal loggers. Bulgaria was slowly repairing itself from its communist days, but repairing is slow. The Bulgarian Department Of Magic had recently enclosed a large portion of forest and made it unplottable for the sole practice of magic and Quidditch Matches. Nonetheless, the forest retained its usual danger level.

"Chelsea, come help your mother with the bacon," called Milton Dominick, his forehead and shirt drenched in sweat. "We didn't go all the way to Bulgaria to stare at some trees!" Milton took up the axe again and started swinging at the wood.

Chelsea sighed. Her father was a loving man, but he never appreciated her gift in art. He did, however, try to incorporate magic and Muggle ethics in the family life. Like locking up his and her wand and taking her on an all-Muggle camping trip in Bulgaria, far away from England. She replaced the charcoal pencil onto her sketchpad and positioned it reluctantly on the fallen trunk she was sitting on. She walked ever so slowly to the small campsite her parents had set up. Her father was chopping some wood, while her mum watched their lunch. She thought about how different being a half-blood was. _At least the wizarding world will never have the luxury of a fine paper sketchpad and charcoal pencils_, Chelsea thought to herself cheerfully as she sat down beside her mum. Her mum was a Muggle, as wizards would put it, but Chelsea loved her just the same. One thing was definite, though: her mum wasn't the perfect oh-look-I-bake-great-oatmeal-cookies kind; Constance Dominick _did_ burn her cookies four out of five times she tried.

Chelsea had taken up a lot after her mum, sharing Constance's blonde hair, blue eyes and thin frame. She even acquired the prominent dimples her mother's side had.

"Could you take the pan for a while, Chels?" Constance asked her daughter, wiping her long blonde locks out of her sweaty forehead.

Chelsea stared apprehensively at the innocent pan of frying bacon and nodded. Constance lifted herself up from the log her husband had placed near the campfire and said, "I daresay this Bulgarian weather is going to get hotter, so why don't we stay out of our tents for a while tonight?"

"But there are creatures in the forest," Chelsea said, looking up from the pan.

"We just have to take our chances," Milton said, putting his axe down. "That's what I enjoy about these Muggle trips. The great outdoors, no magic, doing everything manually—this is the life."

"And you still won't allow me to explore," Chelsea said, grinning. "Dad, I want to get some good sketches. I can't when all I can see is the trail and the trees. I want to get a good view—possibly from a mountaintop."

"It would be a good idea to go on a hike after lunch, when the day cools down, Milton," Constance said, walking around the campfire, fanning herself.

"I guess it would be a good idea," Milton said. Chelsea broke into a grin. Her father took a deep breath and stared at the tall trees around them. "Bulgaria has the most beautiful nature—what's that smell?"

Chelsea's grin faded as she looked down at the pan. The color of the bacon was now close to black and the strips were curling up on the pan, and there was a lot of smoke.

"Hold on, honey!" Constance said, running forward as Chelsea held the pan, eyes still glued to the burning bacon. "I have water!" And she threw the liquid onto the pan in Chelsea's hands. The bacon burst in flames.

"_Aguamenti!_"

Chelsea stood drenched in her clothes, staring at her father, wand outstretched, and her mother stared at the bottle of cooking oil she was holding. "Terribly sorry dear," Constance said, placing the oil on the ground. Chelsea's eyes darted back to the bacon. All that was left of the six juicy strips were a couple of ashes.

"Sorry," Constance said, rushing to her daughter. "I guess take-out would be a great idea now, would it?"

Viktor Krum sat on an elevated cliff in the eastern Balkan Mountains. The sudden drop gave him a clear view of the Kamchiya River, which ran beside the Balkans, and where it met the Black Sea. He clutched his broomstick, and looked over the cliff ever so slightly, where he could see his leather Quidditch boots dangling over the rock immediately over the straight drop down.

He looked up again, allowing his eyes to squint at his view of the port cities of Varna and Burgas. How he loved this spot. The tranquility was soothing to him, and how he longed to bring a special someone to share this little cliff with. Only one name entered his mind. _Her_. He had met her three years back in England. He wasn't able to pronounce her name correctly then, he could tell, and he had spent the entire of the next year trying to. Hermione. He could still remember her bushy hair, and her eyes. He stared at the Black Sea almost angrily; saddened he could not share this special view with her.

Ah, Hermione. Sweet, intelligent, charming, magnificent Hermione. There were no adjectives to describe her wondrous splendor—

"That vould be it, Viktor," a voice said. "Ve 'ave got ze picture."

Viktor reluctantly got up and walked over to the crew of photographers waiting for him. This had to be his third shoot for the week. It was hard being a star Quidditch player. If only they had let him reminisce a while a longer…

"Great progress today, Viktor," the head photographer, a man with a large brown moustache, said, taking his quill and writing on a piece of parchment. "Ve might be able to capture ze other scenes. Ve're quite ahead of ze scheduled itinerary."

Viktor merely nodded. He slouched as he walked down the slope, hands in his pockets. Not much had happened since he met Hermione in—where was that—Hogwarts for the Triwizard Tournament. Sure, Bulgaria let the precious World Cup slip away two more times, one to Romania, and the second to Paraguay. Viktor felt no guilt, as he was partially injured in the semifinal match against Tunisia prior the Paraguayan match, and he failed to get the snitch. It didn't matter, anyway. The fans, the popularity—and the thoughts of Hermione stayed the same. She had forgotten to write after a while, and Viktor didn't want to seem desperate, so he stopped as well.

"Vud you fink that ze slogan, 'Visit Bulgaria And See Its Vunders, Viktor Krum Endorses' vud be appropriate?" Once again, the voice of the annoying head photographer disrupted his thoughts. How he longed to punch the stocky man square in the stomach and watch him writhe in agony.

"Vell? Viktor? Are you still listening?"

Viktor looked at the photographer and said, "I don't think I vud like to do ze other shots zis week."

The head photographer looked quite abashed and stepped in front of Viktor. He barely came up to Krum's shoulder. "Then vat, I vud like to ask, vud you like to do ze rest of ze week before Quidditch Season starts?" he asked pompously.

"Maybe rest," Viktor said, maintaining the slow tone of his voice. "I vud like to go back to the inn in Sofia (1), saynk you."

The photographer stared at Viktor in utter disbelief and nodded slowly. Satisfied, Viktor walked down the path, ahead of the chattering group of photographers.

Chelsea couldn't believe her eyes at the sight of the valley between the Balkan Mountains, which the Kamchiya River so delicately cut through. She immediately retrieved her charcoal pen and sketchpad from her satchel and found a comfortable spot to start sketching. She wished she had a sunset to draw, but it was still way too early.

"This might be a good spot to have a picnic," Constance said, catching sight of her daughter silently sketching the Kamchiya River.

Milton nodded and set the blanket farther away from the sunlight and the spot where Chelsea was drawing, but near enough to keep an eye on her. He sat down on a tree stump and took out his pipe. He could see that his daughter was enjoying herself with the simple but beautiful view. He lay down for a short nap.

Viktor Krum sighed in the boutique. It was his picture on the cliff, moving like all other wizard pictures, endorsing the nature of Bulgaria. He could see that the pompous photographer had chosen the slogan, 'Visit Bulgaria and its nature! -Viktor Krum, World-Famous Bulgarian Seeker'. The company had even placed his signature without his consent. He stood near the candy section of the shop, staring forlornly at the low-grade poster.

Outside, Chelsea was saddened that the trip had ended so fast. Part of the 'Muggle Trip' her dad organized was to take an airplane back to London. They had a few hours before their flight departed, and her family had decided to visit Argnos Bend, the Bulgarian equivalent of Diagon Alley in Sofia, Bulgaria's capital city. She wandered into the near-empty boutique, scanning the shelves for a glimpse of some familiar English candy.

"Excuse me."

Viktor felt a slight tap on his back. He turned to find a blonde-haired girl who was quite short, but looked around fifteen or sixteen. She was wearing Muggle clothes, and Viktor surmised she was half-blood because she had a comfortable stance in the shop, much unlike Muggle-born wizards, who still felt uneasy in all-wizard places. He knew what to say. "If you vant my autograph, zen you must 'ave some parchment and a quill. I don't sign on anysing else."

"Excuse me?" Chelsea repeated, confused. She certainly didn't want this guy's autograph. She stared hard at the face, the hooked nose, the messy hair and the slouch. She recognized him now. He had been at Hogwarts when she was in her third year, for the Triwizard Tournament. It was the famous Viktor Krum from Durmstrang. She had been a Cedric supporter, being in Hufflepuff, and she knew most of her classmates would perform an Unforgivable Curse just to get Krum's autograph, even now. But she didn't need one. "I just want some Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans," Chelsea told Krum. "You're uh, blocking the shelf."

Krum stared hard at the girl in disbelief. This had never happened to him before, unless the person already had his autograph. But even people with his autograph wanted more.

Feeling deeply embarrassed, he nodded and stepped out of the way. He watched the girl marvel at the shelf, somewhat declaring, "I'm in civilization again! English candy!" and grabbing about five packs. As she turned, she smiled at him and made her way to the counter. Krum scowled. Who cared about her anyway?

"Ow! Watch where you're going, mister," Chelsea said.

Viktor turned around. A tall man wearing robes of deep black, with sunken eyes and a weird grin, deliberately bumped into Chelsea. Krum was about to dismiss it as rudeness, and was about to turn around when he caught a glimpse of a familiar mark on the man's left forearm. Chelsea walked to the cashier, and after paying for her candy, left the shop. Krum stood in the shop for a few more minutes, keeping an eye on the man, who seemed to be waiting for someone.

Krum knew about Voldemort's side. In the Triwizard Tournament, he was placed under the Imperius Curse by one of his minions, forced to attack Cedric Diggory with the Cruciatus Curse, but was thankfully stopped by Harry Potter. Harry and Cedric went on to finish the maze, only to be transported by the portkey Triwizard Cup to the graveyard where Cedric was killed. He heard news during the past years that Voldemort had come back, and that his forces were congregating all over Europe. Rumors were that his followers were strongest in the forests of Britain, near the coasts of Wales and Ireland, up north in Scotland, in the plains of France, the mountains of Austria and Hungary, the dark forests of Germany and Poland, and in the Balkan Peninsula, including Albania, Romania and Bulgaria. Many arrests had been made, but many murders had been committed as well. Both sides were both gaining and losing. And Krum knew that it wasn't a coincidence that he had spotted one in broad daylight, as if the man was making it known that Voldemort was gaining power again.

At last, the man, looking impatient, left the shop. Krum knew better than to be looking for Voldemort's followers, but his past experiences pushed him to follow the man. On the way out, he passed a group of giggling girls, who squealed as he brushed past.

He followed the man as he weaved through the crowd, keeping his distance, but after a few minutes, it appeared the man had lost the girl. Krum hid in an alley, watching the man carefully. He met up with one of his friends, another shady-looking man. Krum pretended to queue up for some ice cream as he eavesdropped.

"What are The Dark Lord's orders?" said the first man. He had a distinct British accent. "I have seen the girl he was describing. She left the Parkoff Confectionery a few moments ago."

"The Dark Lord said to follow her," his companion said, furious. "The Dark Lord said she will lead us to Harry Potter. We will have to pursue her then—in England."

"I don't understand," the first man said. "The Dark Lord knows Potter is going back to Hogwarts for his seventh year. Why is he having us follow this Mudblood?"

"You know better than to question the Dark Lord!" his companion hissed. "I have a hunch, though. This girl, seemingly innocent, will be useful. I just know it."

Krum watched the two men walk away. He needed to warn her. By the looks of it, though, she already left. Krum decided he would have to go to England and pay an old acquaintance a visit. And he knew how to get there faster than the girl, or the Death Eaters.

Durmstrang Institute hadn't changed much since Viktor left it. It was still the same small castle, and the lake that fronted it hadn't changed either. He looked for the Durmstrang Ship. He needed it now.

Krum strode down the familiar stone halls of Durmstrang. He knew where he was going. As if he was still a student, he maneuvered the corridors expertly, until he arrived at a small office. He knocked on the door.

A small man, gray with age, opened the door. Upon seeing Krum, he looked surprised and confused, but soon straightened up to face him.

"Viktor Krum!" the old man said. "Long time, no see!"

"Yes, yes," Krum said, shaking the man's hand. "Garkiff, is ze ship still functional? I 'ave an emergency, and I need to get to Britain."

"Ov course it is!" Garkiff beamed, and he led the way to the sea gate of the school.

"How's ze school been under Yestin?" Krum asked.

"Fairly good," Garkiff said. "Alvays better zen Karkaroff, zat's for sure. Here ve are!"

Krum stared at the magnificent hull of the Durmstrang ship. He hoped he still remembered how to operate it. This would be a one-man journey.

Chelsea looked out of her plane window. Plane rides always made her sick, so she was given the window seat. She stared out into the view of the cloudless sky above the Balkan Peninsula, above the numerous islands of Greece, above the Black Sea, above the Carpathian Mountains and the Balkan Mountains. She accepted the juice the flight attendant had given her, oblivious to the upcoming adventures she would be facing.

_**Author's Note: There! My second chapter for all of you to see. I'm sorry if I left Harry and the others for a while. I'll be highlighting Bill and Fleur's wedding next chapter. Now, I have a few points to ponder. First of all, (my sister made me do this) this is NOT a Krum-bashing fic. It was never meant to be. I was just getting back on the affection (should I call it affection?) of Krum toward Hermione. Second, pardon my knowledge in Geography, because Sofia is not a girl Krum knows. Sofia happens to be the capital of Bulgaria, in which I mention a lot of times. All rivers, mountains and cities here are factual. Thank you.**_


	3. Dances And Deliveries

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, who belongs to J.K. Rowling, and all related characters, places, terms and the rest.

CHAPTER THREE

Dances And Deliveries

Harry sat in the Weasley's garden, holding his glass of bitter-tasting wine. He watched Fleur and Bill dancing in the middle, looking very much in love. Fleur's turquoise gown glimmered in the garden light, and as they danced, she and Bill looked like they were joined together as one, literally, as they waltzed around the wooden platform set on the grass. The band the Weasleys hired was now playing a slow tune, and the couples on the dance floor broke into slow, mellow steps. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were in a corner, Fleur's parents in another, Tonks and Lupin and one of Ron's relatives in another, placing Fleur and Bill in the center of attention.

"Aren't you going to ask Ginny, mate?" Ron's voice came from behind him.

"Yeah, I guess so," Harry said.

"Go on, then," Ron pushed. "She's sitting all alone. Luna and Hermione have gone back to the buffet table."

Harry found his eyes settle on Ginny. She was stunning in her peach gown, with her long, red hair tied up in a bun. She sat quietly; holding a purse Mrs. Weasley had given her, smiling at the dancing couples. Harry stood up, straightened his tie, and walked over to her.

"Hey, Ginny," Harry said quite awkwardly. Three years since the Yule Ball, he still hadn't quite gotten hold of asking girls to dance. "D-do you want to dance?"

Ginny smiled at him, her eyes twinkling. As her answer, she stood up, and let him lead her to the dance floor as more couples joined in for a lively number.

"Show me how you dance," Ginny said, allowing Harry to hold her left hand and placing her right on his waist.

Harry felt all the blood rising to his ears as he and Ginny moved with the music. He felt everyone's eyes on his, too. But all he wanted to do was stare into Ginny's, her beautiful eyes, and continue dancing.

"I'm enjoying myself," Ginny said, smiling. "I never knew you danced well."

"Maybe it's just because you look beautiful tonight," Harry found himself saying, the words floating out of his mouth.

"Thank you, Harry," Ginny said, going pink. "You look quite handsome in a tuxedo."

Harry allowed his feet to do all the work for the next few minutes. He and Ginny talked while they danced, about memories, about plans, about thoughts. Harry didn't notice the time pass.

"Are you still going back to Hogwarts?" Ginny said softly, when the band started playing another mellow tune.

"You know I don't want you asking me about this," Harry said, breaking his eye contact with Ginny. "I'm afraid for your safety. Everyone's safety."

"So you're going to find You-Know-Who and defeat him for Dumbledore?" Ginny asked.

"No," Harry shook his head. "Not only for Dumbledore. I'm going to do it for my parents, too. I'm going to do it for all the people who he wrought his wrath on. I'm going to do it for the people who died because of him,"—he found himself thinking of Cedric—"and I want to do it for you, and everyone else, who wants him finally defeated."

"From the first day I saw you, Harry," Ginny said, as he led her back to her table. "In King's Cross, remember? When I first saw you, knowing you survived, I just knew you would be the one to end this all, Harry. As I watched you save Hogwarts, save _lives_ every year, I started realizing my assumption was going to be correct. When you faced Quirell, mum told me how you and Ron and Hermione risked your lives. When you saved me in the Chamber Of Secrets, when you came back from your encounter with You-Know-Who in the graveyard, and in the Ministry, and with Dumbledore and the attack on Hogwarts, they all showed you could Harry. And now, I guess you're going to fulfill your destiny." Ginny found tears in her eyes.

"I promise you, Ginny," Harry said, holding her hands. "I promise you, I will come back, and it'll be a happy ending."

"I just don't want to find out you died doing this," Ginny said, wiping her eyes with her handkerchief.

Harry sat down, holding her hands, watching her wipe her tears. And then, not knowing why, as if drawn by a strange bond, he leaned forward, and kissed her, locking his lips with hers.

"Mum isn't mad," Ron said, an hour later, when most of the guests had already left. "She actually looked happy."

"I didn't know why I did that," Harry said, staring into space.

"You should've seen how everyone stared," Ron said, smiling, as if relieving the memory made him laugh. "Do you remember letting go?"

"No," Harry said vacantly.

"Harry, that was so juicy," Luna said, coming up to their table. "I was so surprised…"

"I'm going to bed," Harry said suddenly, standing up. "See you guys in the morning." He walked away before Luna or Ron could say anything.

"Leaving so early?" Hermione said, coming forward when Harry was about to reach the door of the Weasley's house.

"I'm sleepy," Harry said, refusing to make eye contact.

"About what happened a while ago—" Hermione started, but Harry already left.

Harry sat on his bed and took his shoes off. He was surprised at the calmness of everyone after he kissed Ginny. It was as if seeing two teenagers kiss was an ordinary thing. Moreover, he hadn't really gone public with his relationship with Ginny. Only the Hogwarts students knew of what happened when Ginny and him kissed last year.

Trying to move on, Harry's eyes fell on the diary of his mom on his bedside table. He had refused to open the diary; confident it would give him clues to a past he had never known. Harry planned to open it when he would start off on his journey, a journey, he hoped, he would take alone. He knew his mom never really knew Voldemort as a young girl, but whatever she wrote must hold some clues to how she and James were in school, but Harry didn't want anything straying him off from the task he already set for himself. _I'll open the diary first thing when I leave_, he thought.

Harry changed into his nightclothes after a particularly long shower, and decided to bid Ginny good night before going to sleep. Ron and the others hadn't gone back up yet. Harry walked down the attic steps and knocked on the room Ginny and Hermione shared. To his dismay, Hermione was in the room.

"Oh, it's you, Harry," Hermione said when he entered the room. It looked like she and Ginny were in the middle of a talk. Both girls were still in their dresses. Seeing his expression, Hermione added, "If you want some time with Ginny, I can, erm, wait outside…"

"No, no," Harry shook his head. "I just wanted to say, good night, Ginny."

Ginny smiled and looked at him with some kind of look Harry was unable to decipher, and merely nodded, saying, "Good night to you too, Harry. Thanks for the night, and um, see you in the morning." She grinned as he turned to leave.

"What? No goodnight for me?" Hermione asked, folding her arms, obviously unperturbed at the fact that Harry only bade goodnight to Ginny. Harry determined by her lackluster voice and gestures that she was kidding, or that she was merely a bad actor.

"Good night, Hermione," Harry said, yawning.

"I was only kidding, if you'd want to know," Hermione said, giggling slightly, but still waving when he closed the door.

Harry dragged his feet up the stairs. He was surprised how exhausted he felt, and he barely took a glimpse of the mirror in the attic before falling on his bed and dozing off.

In a lake a few miles from the Burrow, a familiar mast rose out of the water, barely making ripples on the water's smooth surface. Whoever was captaining the ship made sure the entire vessel was invisible to Muggle late-night passerby. The moon shone over the tranquil waters as the ship moored at the shore.

Harry was not sure what time he woke up, but he could hear a commotion downstairs. Ron was asleep in the other bed, and Harry decided not to wake him up.

The Weasley kitchen was in its usual mess, trying its best to contain its numerous diners, but it was that morning, as always, overcrowded. Mrs. Weasley was busy trying to serve food for everyone, Mr. Weasley was talking with Bill, Fleur was having an animated discussion with Hermione, Ginny and Charlie, and Fred and George, noticing they had nothing to do, decided to bother everyone else in ways Harry couldn't count.

"Good morning, Harry, dear," Mrs. Weasley said, handing him some bacon. "Bit of a late morning for everyone, you see. Most of the guests didn't leave until two in the morning."

"Percy didn't bother coming," Fred said brusquely.

"Yeah, bloody git thinks he's too good for the wedding of his own brother," George added. "I swear I'll hex him the next time he comes over. He might as bloody well bring the Minister Of Magic with him again."

"Language at the table," Mrs. Weasley said abruptly. "Anyway, Percy says that he's terribly busy…"

"Busy?" Fred scoffed. "I bet he's cutting the toenails of Scrimgeour, hoping he'll get the next undersecretary opening. Not with that hag Umbridge, though."

At the sound of his son's name, Arthur Weasley got up, and donned his hat. "Will be late if I don't go now, Molly," he said suddenly. "Couldn't get a day off the day after my son's wedding. Goodbye now, Molly, Bill, Fleur, Charlie, Hermione, Ginny, Fred, George, Harry,"—he had to point to each person around the table, afraid he'd forget to mention someone's name—"and Ron," he said, ending with his youngest son, who had just appeared at the table. He gave a wave, and was out the door.

Harry nodded absentmindedly when Mr. Weasley acknowledged him, but his mind was still on the last sentence Fred had said. Dolores Umbridge caused quite some chaos as teacher, High Inquisitor and even Headmistress—whatever she wanted to call herself—during Harry's fifth year. Harry wanted to forget about her and her quite unattractive face and her annoying cough and syrupy voice, but something at the corner of his eye brought his thoughts back to school.

"Oh look," Ron said, yawning, pushing some bacon into his mouth. "The Hogwarts letters are arriving early this year."

Harry choked on his omelet. He looked through the window of the kitchen, and sure enough, four owls, laden with letters, were flying toward the house. After detaching his letter, Harry didn't even bother to open the envelope, signed by the new Headmistress, Professor McGonagall, who had taken over after Professor Dumbledore's death.

"Blimey, look at the books," Ron said, his tongue against his cheek. "Harry, you haven't opened yours."

"I'm not coming back."

"Excuse me, mate?"

"I'm not coming back," Harry repeated. "To Hogwarts. I'm going to do what Dumbledore wanted." He fingered the embossed Hogwarts seal of a Lion, a Serpent, a Badger and a Eagle.

Hermione glanced up from her booklist. Mrs. Weasley turned to face the table from the stove.

"What? I haven't told you?" Harry asked Hermione.

"No," Hermione shook her head. "It's not that. It's just that McGonagall doesn't know yet. You have to inform her, Harry."

"Does that mean I have to go back to Hogwarts?" Harry asked.

"Just to inform McGonagall, if that's what you really want to do," Hermione replied. "We'll accompany you if you want. It's still a week before school."

"I'm going," Ron said. "I wouldn't back out on you, mate."

"All I have to do is to tell her I don't want to go back to school for my last year," Harry said, fingering the envelope. "That should be easy."

"No it won't," Mrs. Weasley said, shaking her head. All the silent heads turned to her. "It's like you're going against the law, Harry, dear. Let's hope McGonagall understands your wishes. It could go either way. If she won't let you, she'll make sure you'll be back for your last year."

"Don't go back then, it's that simple," Fred said. "What she won't know won't hurt her."

"You can't fool a teacher like that, you two should know that," Hermione said a-matter-of-factly. "She'll know. Harry, you just have to take your chances."

"Very well," Mrs. Weasley said, as if to settle the discussion. "But only Harry, Ron and Hermione go. The problem is, you still need a chaperone to Hogwarts, since you are still in school. And no trains go to the castle this time yet, so how do you expect to go to Hogwarts? Your father has gotten into enough trouble with flying cars, Ronald, so don't think about it."

"Bill, can you go with us?" Harry asked.

"Afraid I can't Harry," Bill shook his head. "Got to be at work before Fleur and I go on a honeymoon."

At this point, Ron had gone to help his mom gather the dishes. Charlie rose to help him, and Ginny went to wash her face. Fleur walked over to the window to stare at the meadows, and Hermione went to join her.

"Charlie?" Ron asked hopefully.

"I've got some deals about dragons that I've got to attend to," Charlie said, shaking his head and handing Ron five plates.

"Can't ask us either," George said. "The store needs some attending to."

"Mom?" Ron asked, this time sounding desperate.

"I can't go unless everyone goes," Mrs. Weasley said.

"Fleur?" Harry asked, turning to Fleur and Hermione, who were still looking out the window.

Fleur was silent. She stepped back from the window in some sort of surprised way. Hermione looked sick.

"I think I 'ave got ze answer to your problem," Fleur whispered.

"She's right," Hermione said, looking quite pale.

"Anything wrong?" Harry asked. He rose and walked to the window. And then, he saw, walking in the sunlight, straight towards The Burrow, Viktor Krum.

Harry squinted into the sunlight after stepping into the path that led to the Weasley's front door. It was near noon, and they had to set off. Ron and Hermione stepped out after him, with some backpacks. Viktor was still talking to Mrs. Weasley.

"Are you sure you don't want a drink?" Mrs. Weasley was saying.

"I assure you, Mrs. Weasel-y, I do not need anything," Viktor said, shaking his head. "Zey want to leave now. Don't vorry, zair is some rations on ze ship."

"Ship?" Ron said, turning to face Viktor.

"Sure you haven't forgotten ze famed Durmstrang Ship?" Viktor said, looking quite out of place in his Bulgarian garb.

"You'll come back immediately, yes?" Mrs. Weasley said, standing at the door, trying to block everyone at the back from having a good look of Krum.

"Yes, we vill," Viktor said, nodding.

"Viktor, remember me?" Fleur waved from the back as soon as Viktor turned to leave.

"Delacour?" Viktor said, wincing slightly.

Harry could hear Fleur talking animatedly with the rest on how she and Viktor and Harry were together in the Triwizard Tournament. Mrs. Weasley gave one more goodbye, and watched as the four walked away silently, toward the woods, where the lake had been made unplottable by Muggles and invisible as long as the Durmstrang Ship was still moored.

"It's been a long, time," Harry said, trudging through the leaves.

"Yes, it has," said Hermione quietly. Harry noticed she was walking quite close to Krum. On the other hand, Ron was keeping his distance. Krum started some small talk with Hermione, and Harry thought it would be wise to keep his distance. Nearly tripping on a root, he walked ahead.

There it was, the Durmstrang Ship, still in its glory, rising out from the steep bank. A few seagulls were perched on its masts.

"Zis way, please," Viktor said, walking to the front, Hermione following after him. "I still remember ze way to 'Ogwarts, but you 'ave to watch yourself, ze trip is quite a surprise for first-timers."

Harry nodded and joined Ron on boarding the ship. He stepped on the wooden planks carefully, since the ship looked as decrepit as ever, and it gave Harry a psychological feeling that the ship would fall apart if he stepped to hard.

"Don't worry," Krum said, smiling one of his rare smiles, sensing Harry's apprehension. "Ze ship is in its best condition."


End file.
